Supernaturally
by ForeverSunshine80083
Summary: Sam and Dean are stuck once again. Lucifer, the Devil, is still aiming for his vessel, Sam Winchester. But how far will he go to make Sam turn himself over and say "yes" to his malicious plans? And do Dean or Castiel even stand a chance in fighting him off? The fate of the world rests in their hands. Literally. And Dean still hasn't gotten his pie. The apocalypse is here. (S: 5)
1. Chapter 1

**Supernaturally**

-Chapter One-

Dean watched from the corner of his eye as Sam sat down beside him on the couch, the scent of rotting wood and stained carpets filling his nostrils. Even for their standards, this particular motel was about as close to sleeping in an abandoned warehouse as it got. The only thing he could think to make the moment even worse was maybe a Wi-Fi shortage. Or ravenous ferrets.

Sam let go of a tight breath. "So," he began, his voice hoarse. "What are we going to do?"

At that moment, Dean honestly had no clue. Cas was absent. Bobby wasn't picking up his phone. Chuck was at another Supernatural convention. Things were looking quite grim. Lucifer's words kept repeating over and over in his mind. A horrifying echo that wouldn't seem to stop.

"Bring me Sam Winchester or I'll have my Blood Hounds dine on human flesh for the main course. Your choice."

Dean felt ready to boot.

"Okay, so we know he has the building surrounded. It wouldn't make sense for him to show up at the Grand Central manor unprotected," Sam thought aloud.

"Not that he needs any protection," Dean felt compelled to grumble. Irritably, Sam's jaw bone flared as he clenched and unclenched his teeth. It was a nervous habit of his that Dean had picked up on long ago.

Leaning back in the couch, Dean dragged both hands down his face, unraveling at the seams. They had two options that Lucifer made painfully clear. Either bring Sam, his vessel, to the manor where he kidnapped over forty innocents. Or he'll feed the John and Jane Does like dog food to his Hell Hounds. Having known from experience how it felt to be torn to shreds by Hell's evil bitches, Dean wasn't exactly on board with ignoring the Devil's request. But he felt cornered. In no means, did he at all, want Sam anywhere near Lucifer. The fate of the world, literally, rested in his hands. But what was he to do?

Sam, again, interrupted his quiet contemplation. "Maybe we can get in there, make a few demon traps, bring the knife and then distract the demons and Lucifer until the people can get free. We can probably blast in through the back and—"

"And what, Sam? Become human speed bumps for the Devil to walk all over and hope that miraculously the captured people run in the right direction? We're talking about humans, Sam. A bunch of trapped, scared and idiotic humans. We'd be lucky to live long enough to see them even try to run for the doors."

"Then what are we going to do? We can't just sit here doing nothing! Innocent people are going to die, Dean!"

"I know!" Dean roared, raising his voice for the first time. "You think I don't know that?"

There was another thick silence. One that felt even heavier than the last. If that were even possible. Dean's palms hurt from the crescent shaped cuts lining the bottom of his hand. His fingernails were digging into flesh. But the pain was only a distant throb. A quiet mewling from the back of his mind, reminding him that he too, was only human.

Sam sighed again, looking down at the ground and letting his hair fall victim to gravity. It shielded his eyes from Dean's quick glance, making him wonder if his brother was angry or scared. Maybe both. A crackle of lightning broke the silence and it graced brief light over the dark hotel room. A rumble of thunder followed. They had exactly twenty four hours to make a decision. Twenty four long and fear-filled hours.

"I have to go, Dean. Lucifer won't stop until he gets what he wants. I've watched too many people die because of me. At the very least, I owe them this." Sam's words chilled Dean to the bone, enough to make him growl.

"Oh no you're not. You're staying here, right where I can see you," Dean said, standing up and stuffing his hands into his pockets. Sam stood up, too, his eyebrows narrowing. The dark brown of his eyes was pitch black in the dimness. "I wasn't asking for your permission. And you can't stop me," he snapped. "My mind is set. No one else is going to die because of me. This is it. I've had it with Lucifer's stupid games. If it's me he wants, then so be it."

Dean watched as Sam ripped his jacket off the back of the chair and yanked it over his arms in determined frustration. Dean's eyes widened.

"And what, you think he'll just let everyone else walk demon-free after you show up? You can't be serious, Sam, this plan is crazy. Not to mention suicidal and, pardon my French, but stupid as _hell_."

Sam didn't reply. He only continued to frown and pack supplies into a bag. Another roar of thunder commenced, causing Dean to nearly jump out of his skin as Castiel's shape appeared across the room. At least he wasn't popping out of space right in front of his face anymore, but still. That dude really needed a bell.

"Dean is right, Sam. You cannot give into Lucifer's wishes," Castiel tried to reason. His hands were tucked into his trench coat pockets and his face showed the lines of exhaustion. Dean couldn't help but wonder if angels ever got tired or worn. But it seemed by the look on his friend's face, it might actually be the case.

Sam stopped his angry packing and whipped around to face the level-headed angel. "So we're just going to leave everyone to die? They didn't ask for this. They don't deserve this. It wasn't their fault that they're in this mess. _I_ opened the door. _I_ broke the last seal. _I_ let Lucifer free. Not them. They don't deserve death."

Castiel refused to show an ounce of, well, _anything_ as Sam yelled at him. Dean was about to jump back into it when he was interrupted.

"The death of the few, although unjust and unfair, does not outweigh the life of the many. Sometimes sacrifices must be made to achieve great peace." Castiel's face revealed no spite in what he was saying. In fact, if Dean didn't know any better, Cas was trying very hard to speak with remorse. But he couldn't ignore the obvious. Dean saw the resolved look in his eyes, lighting up electric blue as a wave of white light erupted in the room. The thunder seemed to shake the building itself.

Dean wanted to believe Castiel's words. They were true. He knew it. But Sam had a point. They couldn't just turn their heads as countless innocents died for no purpose, but evil blackmail. It was wrong and it went against everything they believed in.

Sam's eyes sparkled with emotion. "You might be okay with pretending nothing is happening because you can choose to disappear or reappear at any time, but I'm not you. I'm not some emotionless jerk who can't see right from wrong. This is wrong. The death of innocents is wrong. And I won't sit back and do nothing while blood is spilled in my name," Sam hissed.

Castiel's eyes narrowed. "And you would prefer to give yourself up to the Devil and have him shed blood personally? I see no more reason in your idea of a solution than my supposed 'wrong' ideal of action."

Sam clenched his hands into fists and took steps to stand face-to-face with the angel. "You heartless winged piece of—"

Dean finally felt compelled to intercede. "Sam, enough. Cas is right. You're not going. Your plan is ridiculous."

Castiel crossed his arms over his chest, almost appearing smug. But Dean knew better. Cas wasn't one to gloat in petty victories.

"We're going to rescue the captives together," Dean said levelly.

Both angel and brother turned to stare at Dean, who tried not to appear as if he just dropped the F-bomb. When, in fact, he had uttered the T-word he tried very hard not to use. Asking for help wasn't exactly the Winchester way, but if they wanted even a chance against the Devil, then Dean and Sam would need every ounce of help they could get. And Cas just so happened to be their only angelic hit man.

**Author's note: Welp, this is my very first FanFiction EVER. Not my usual writing work, but I just can't help it. Supernatural is really an epic series. The characters, the story, the dialogue. *sighs* It's a work of art. Of course, I'm only in the middle of the fifth season (currently watching them on Netflix religeously) so don't tell me anything! O.o Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed. Any and all reviews are greatly appreciated. I'll post the next chapter ASAP!**


	2. Chapter 2

-Chapter Two-

There was a moment of pause as the two of them sat back in Dean's Impala, only a handful of miles away from the overtaken manor. Dean quietly entertained himself by flipping through a Busty Asians magazine.

"Seriously, man?" Sam complained, glaring at him with raised eyebrows. Dean didn't even look up. With a shrug, he flipped to the next page. Only when a thought came to mind did he turn away from the spray tanned pictures of barely clothed women.

"I want pie," he stated with urgency. Sam couldn't even try to hold back an eye roll. That was when Cas materialized in shotgun.

"There are twenty, maybe thirty demons posted in both the front and back entrances," he explained. "One door is left unprotected, but it will not be easy to get to, especially with the streets overrun with demons and blood hounds. I do not see how we are to make it back from this mission bodily intact."

Dean grunted, tossing the magazine aside. "Well, aren't you a bundle of angelic zeal. Sam, you ready for this?"

"Dean, I am not speaking in a matter of jest. We logically will not make it back from this," Castiel continued to add.

"You got the knife?" Dean shot back at his brother, who looked back and forth between them.

"Yeah," he answered at length.

Breathing in deeply, Dean smiled. "Let's go fight the Devil."

**-O-O-O-O-**

The drive down was only a half an hour long, with the building residing just outside of Denver. Of course, Dean parked the car a block away from the demon infested streets of Aurora, Colorado. Estimating a twenty minute walk that could easily be beaten by angel mojo, Dean slung a duffel bag full of supplies over his shoulder.

"All right, team. This is a quick, get in, get out plan of action. We're trying to avoid as many unneeded casualties as possible. Granted, we're killing every demon Buffy the Vampire Slayer style, but minus the hot blonde. Everyone on board so far?" Dean asked.

Castiel slowly shook his head, his eyebrows furrowed. Sam took a deep breath.

"I don't want to step all over our little compromise or anything, Dean, but this plan isn't making any sense. I'm all for saving people, but I have no intention of dying tonight," Sam explained.

Castiel scoffed very non-angelically. "Whether we die before or after we make it in the door does not matter. But if we wish to discuss details, then I would rather prefer death by demons inside than ripped to pieces by Hell Hounds outside. But it is no consolation."

Somewhere on the inside of Dean's head, a bruise was forming on his brain. "You know, Cas," Dean began tightly. "If you want to get voted off the island, you're performing flawlessly. I don't exactly feel like giving you a rose right now."

"Now you are just confusing me," Castiel replied almost matter-of-factly.

Sam slammed a hand down on Dean's shoulder. "Enough. We're on borrowed time. Cas, are you with us, or not?"

It took a short moment, but after a minor inner self inspection, Castiel nodded, once again retiring his hands into both pockets. "I am with you. Fortunate or unfortunately, I will follow you both to the grave. Whether that day is today or three years from now."

Sam struggled in-between smiling and cringing at the same time and Dean merely ticked his eyebrow. "Well, okay. Good. Glad to hear that." Dean bit his bottom lip and scoped the area once, as if searching for invisible threats.

"All right, the plan's simple. We go in through Cas's unprotected door. Distract the demons, Hell Hounds, Lucifer and whatever else he decides to throw at us while Cas pops around like a Tooth Fairy Usher to show everyone out. In simpler words: Sam, try not to die, I'll do the same, and Cas, by God, you get those people to safety. No matter what goes down, I want everyone else out of there and on one-way plan tickets to Vegas. Comprende?"

"Understood. I will do everything in my power," Castiel reassured.

Dean nodded. "This is a suicide mission, so try to use your brain. If that's even possible. We'll meet back out here at daybreak."

As much as Dean wanted to sit there in his car forever, he knew time was against him. If they were going to do this, they had to do it now. There was no going back. But fear still churned on. Little by little, Cas's words were eating away at him. Like ravenous wolves on a single steak. He could feel his heart being torn to shreds bit by bit. The one knife wasn't going to be enough. They needed more. Would they really survive this last case?

Tugging at the straps of his backpack, Dean nodded once to Cas, his eyes stone hard. He knew that his friend would not disappoint him. Even if he were to be the only one walking-or popping-home that evening, Castiel would not fail his task. He was an angel and therefor, following commands was his life. His existence was made merely to serve. It hurt him at times and Dean saw it, but now it would prove to be the brothers' greatest strength in winning this fight. Or at least surviving it.

"I trust you, Cas. When we get back from this, I swear I'm buying you a bell." Dean offered a brief, half smile.

Castiel returned it with numb enthusiasm before disappearing into thin air. A moment went by when he just stood there, staring at the empty space where his friend had once stood. Sam placed a hand on his shoulder and brought him back from his trance.

"We will make it out of this, Dean. We're doing the right thing."

"Yeah? Then why do I feel like I've just made the biggest mistake of my life."

What he said wasn't a question.

**Author's note: Ah, jeez. These chapters are so short, they're killing me. I can't stand it. Anyhow, the next chapter I think will delve into Cas's part a little more before anything else. Really hope you all like! See you then! :D**


	3. Chapter 3

_-Chapter Three-_

Castiel wasted no time in making a speedy process. If all went well, there was a chance he could get in, free the humans and get out before Dean and Sam were severely injured. Granted, his abilities were shortcoming. At times, although he would never admit it to Dean, he felt very human. Deep down he thought it scared him, if he had to put a label on that certain emotion.

The manor, standing tall and housing more than thirty floors, was looming before him. He sought out the demons and found them immediately. He had no trouble in locating the vile creatures, but getting past them was a different story. Dean had asked him to "pop in" and "pop out" with as many humans he could "magically poof." Thankfully, Castiel was able to read between the lines. But the problem wasn't so much as understanding confusingly unintelligent words, but acting upon his orders. The last time he tried to transport more than three people to an unknown destination, he had ended up physically wounding his vessel. Not beyond repair, but beyond enough. If he needed a backup plan, escaping the building on foot would have to be it. And that would be an issue.

Now standing at the door where Dean and Sam were to get into, he swung into action as two demons leapt at him. He had lied. The door was protected. Just not . . . heavily.

"Castiel," one purred as he extracted the demon from another. The now human body slumped to the floor as he stared up at the one who had spoken. Seemingly young, maybe no more than sixteen; the girl smiled.

"I expected as much that you would show. I mean, you've got a human holding your leash now. Something told me you would be forced to save the other useless beings." The girl crossed her arms and shrugged, dark hair pulled back behind her face. Castiel tried to put a name on her, but they all remained the same to him. Impure monsters.

He tipped his head just slightly to the side. "I am here on my own according."

"I bet you are," the girl seethed, rolling her eyes. "Where are they? I know they're somewhere close by. Wouldn't roam too far away from their babysitter, now would they?"

"They are not here, but I've got a message for Lucifer." Castiel swallowed hard, suddenly never feeling so confined in his own skin. It was an odd feeling.

The girl kept her distance, but he saw the momentary sparkle of interest light up in her eyes. He had her right where he wanted.

She let out a sigh. "What is it, angel? I haven't got all night."

Castiel felt his hands tighten around thin air as he charged at the demon. She pivoted to the left, but he had already anticipated her response. Feeling her finger nails dig into his face, he ripped the demon from her and let her fall limp to the ground. He felt half tempted to say something, as if to gloat. But deciding otherwise, he, instead, went along with the plan.

Once inside, he noticed two very peculiar things. One, every single light in the manor was out, bathing the halls and doors in darkness. Two, the scent of human blood was in the air. This was something he really did not want to find out. He had thought there was a chance that Lucifer had killed the humans anyway, but quietly, he was trying to remain optimistic. That was when a scream echoed through the air.

"Help! Someone help us!" The voice screamed again. He ran towards the sound, jogging silently through the blackened halls. The blood red carpet was the only visible color throughout the building, going on and on seemingly forever. Finally, he made it to the end of the hall and stopped, listening hard.

"Help!" the voice cried. He whipped around and saw the door for the first time. A large, metal thing with a sign on it, indicating a staircase downward. He appeared at the bottom of the stairwell immersed in thick darkness. Shuffling sounds commenced and he squinted to see a large group of people backing away from him.

"Do not be afraid. I am here to help," he spoke in the most calming voice he could. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he could see them. Men, women, and children. Their faces were filled with fear. "I can take the women and children first, if you would prefer. I will send them someplace safe."

No one moved or spoke. They seemed frozen, quaking from head to toe. "Trust me," he whispered. "We're running out of time."

Hesitantly, a woman with four children clinging to her waist stepped forward, pressing her lips together. She seemed weary, but thankfully a little more trusting of his promise. Castiel stepped forward, resisting the urge to rush at them all and get them to safety one by one.

"Please, help us," the woman pleaded. Castiel noticed for the first time that tears were staining her cheeks. He took her hand and looked briefly at the four wide-eyed children. So small and weak. Humans in general were a lot like that, but Castiel had begun to grow attached to them. Taking two fingers, he pressed them against the woman's forehead as she gripped her kids. With no more than a blink, they were standing in the middle of a different town in Denver, facing a hospital and police station. Dean had given Castiel the location a while ago. A good thing, too. He was worried that they could appear anywhere.

A wave of nausea swept through Castiel and he stumbled once, feeling his human heart pound. He then felt the hands of the woman steadying him.

"You saved us. God bless you, stranger. You truly are a guardian angel." The woman smiled.

Castiel gathered breath. She had no idea.

**-O-O-O-O-**

Possibly thirty captured humans later, Castiel faced the one remaining man left. Little did the humans know, and for that he was thankful; blood stained the sleeves of his trench coat. He had coughed up quite a great deal of it. Even his hands trembled, only slightly. Touching two fingers to the last man's head, Castiel appeared on his knees at the Wellness Hospital. By that point, it had become a familiar sight. But this time, the man stopped him.

"There are more of us kidnapped across the room. They've been calling for help for hours. Please, you must save them," he said. At the moment, Castiel could feel his insides shutting down. It was an unpleasant feeling he thought would never happen, but there he was. Not belonging with the humans and a fugitive of the angels. The severity of the situation was not lost on him.

"Thank you," he replied, out of breath. Coughing up more blood, he shakily forced himself back into the manor, letting out a rugged gasp. Things had gone from already bad to exceedingly worse. At least, he reassured himself, some were saved. He could only hope that Dean and Sam were still breathing.

While he half walked, half stumbled across the room, he felt for a door. Hands closing over a handle, he ripped it open and gasped as white light blinded his mortal vision. Only the sound of the door slamming shut behind him could be heard as he hit the ground, knees first. That was, until the voice interrupted.

"Help!" it screamed. "Help me!"

Castiel forced himself to his feet and looked up for the first time. The room was small and made entirely of steel, he realized. A small box sized room. And in the dead center, stood Lucifer and a demon girl who smirked.

"Told you he'd make it. Granted, not all together, but still. I win." Her face lit up with excitement.

Lucifer smiled. "Yes, Lucy, you were right. Nice work." Moving at the speed of lightning, Lucifer grabbed the girl and snapped her neck before she could even utter a cry. Black smoke erupted immediately from her throat, filling the room briefly before disappearing all-together.

Castiel cringed, watching the body of the girl hit the ground, her eyes glassy.

Lucifer fixed his tie. "Demon women. They really are a pain."

Castiel tried to lunge forward, but stopped. The flames licked at his shoes. An angel trap. He stopped dead.

Lucifer grinned. "Well, looks like I've caught myself a big one. You think Dean will come for you? I hope so. Wherever that little brat goes, my dear Sam follows. It's sickening."

"They will not. In fact, they're probably on their way out of the state by now. We were here solely for the human captives and they are freed. Our work is done," Castiel said.

The Devil laughed in reply. "Funny how things never seem to work out logically. Sources say, the Winchester boys are still in the building. I wonder what will happen when my demons let slip that we have their little used-to-be-angelic friend?"

"They will not believe you."

"I beg to differ!" Lucifer replied. "I believe they will come running. If they'll go through so much to save useless humans, then I bet they'll try even _harder_ to save their friend. Humans are dreadfully predictable."

Castiel contained the bubbling agitation in his chest. It took place right next to the searing pain. But he had to believe that they would not be so unwise.

"But it is no matter. Whether they come or not, there is always another try. I have got you, don't I? Brother, I have so much to share with you." Lucifer's words sent chills down Castiel's spine and he fought the urge to cough again.

**Author's note: I don't know why I like writing these, but I do. Is that weird? O.o Anyhow, we'll be switching back to Dean in the next chapter. In third person, of course, but it's the same difference. XD Thank you so much for reading! Please, I would love character suggestions or opinions. Feel free to tell me what you think! **


	4. Chapter 4

-Chapter Four-

Dean cocked his gun and snuck a glance over at Sam, whose forehead glistened with sweat under the harsh glare of a street lamp. He feared for his little brother, but chose not to voice his fears in words. After all, it was his bright idea to do this. Cas wasn't exactly on board. Sam was a little _too_ on board. Dean just didn't know where he stood on the whole matter. Going up against the Devil for a bunch of people who may or may not survive the apocalypse at the end of the day was . . . Troubling, at the very least.

"Are we going to have to talk about this, Dean?" Sam asked suddenly.

Dean shrugged. "There isn't anything to talk about," he replied with a tip of his head. They were following the road fast paced, feeling free to give Castiel enough time to do his thing. Dean secretly hoped Cas would show up and be done with it. But something told him that he had cashed out on all his good luck for a lifetime or two. Getting pulled out of Hell, for one.

Sam smiled bitterly and shook his head. "Hey, I know that face. That's 'something' face."

"I don't have a 'something' face."

"Yeah, you're wearing the 'something' face right now."

"No, I'm not." Dean raised an eyebrow at his brother, glancing up over his shoulder.

"Dude," Sam continued.

At that moment, Dean was finished. He let go of a long sigh. "It's something about what Cas said. You know, us trying to remain "bodily intact." Do you think we'll really make it back from this? I mean, we're risking our lives for a bunch of people who could already be dead."

"Isn't that what we do all the time?" Sam replied with a breathy laugh. But Dean couldn't share in his brother's confidence.

"No, this isn't. This is way worse. Seriously way worse. We're talking life and death-worse here." Dean shook his head. "We're playing with fire, Sam. In fact, we're practically living in it. I'm just having a hard time seeing how we're going to make it out of this. Bodily intact, you know?"

Sam offered a shrug in return. "We've made it out of messes before, right? You died, Dean. I died. Ellen and Joe . . . " he broke off briefly." My point is, I'm not afraid anymore. We're going to kill him. No matter what the angels or the demons say. We can do this. I believe in you and more than that, I believe in us."

"I know, Sam. I know." Dean's eyes went to the ground. He knew.

**-O-o-O-**

Dean motioned to his brother as they crept through a gas station across the street from the manor. From the position they were standing in, he could count at least seven demons walking around doing human stuff. One was even watering plants at the front of the building. At two in the morning. Yeah, that totally wasn't obvious.

Sam jogged quietly over the pavement to scrunch up against the pump Dean was leaning on. He quickly did a one over of the area. "Demons. All of them," he supplied seriously.

Dean, still watching the early morning plant-waterer, fought the ever tempting urge of snapping, _"Is that so?" _Instead, he took what he thought was more of a mature approach.

"Yeah, hold on a sec while I go call Bobby and tell him, _duh_," he muttered aloud.  
Sam put his hands up in mock-surrender. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry." He scrunched up his eyebrows and shook his head, holding back a smile. Dean looked away so his brother couldn't see his own little smile.

"Moving on," he whispered. "Cas said the entrance was on the far left. Let's only hope he was facing the front entrance and not the back. Because that would be . . . bad."

Sam snorted. "I think that's something the both of us can agree on."

With a brief nod, Dean turned away again and shuffled through his bag, pulling out a Glock handgun. It was fully loaded with rock salt rounds, perfect for the extraterrestrials. Or, in their immediate case: demons.

"One," he whispered.

"Two," Sam answered.

Both boys took in a breath. Moonlight glinted off the knife attached to Sam's belt and Dean cocked his firearm, fingers tingling. For once, he felt ready. As if he could shoot and dodge bullets like in the Matrix. All night. And then pass out in the morning. He could make time for getting laid later.

"Three."

All it took was a second. One meager second to blow their cover, run for the hills and catch the attention of possibly every demon in the area. But Dean knew that. Dean knew exactly what would happen. Their job wasn't to go in and do anything. They were to distract as many demons bastards they could until Cas called. It wasn't exactly rocket science.

Dean broke for the door, nearly tripping over a couple bodies lining the ground while doing so. Sam actually toppled over.

"What the hell?" Dean cursed, yanking his brother by the arm inside the building. The moment he was able to get Sam through the door and slam it shut, he was fumbling for the salt. They had three seconds, maybe four.

He let out a sigh of relief as he successfully blocked off the entrance. And they hadn't wasted a single bullet. It must be a new record.

Sam dusted off his pants angrily. "Wow, we're alive."

"Hey, what was all that about 'believing in each other' and pansy stuff like that?" Dean snapped, shoving the remaining salt back into his backpack.

"What, I can't be relieved? I was nearly taken out by a body back there. A dead one." Sam shook his head and retrieved the knife from his belt.

Dean couldn't help but stop for a moment to laugh. "Yeah, it was looking pretty touch and go there. You had me worried."

"I could have taken him."

Both boys stopped and looked around for the first time. They were on the first floor. That much was obvious. But besides the fact that they could see the glare of streetlamps from outside a couple stray windows, the room was completely dark. And completely vacant. As much as Dean was enjoying the demon-silence, it could only mean one of two things. Either a) the demons were surrounding the building as they waited, ready to charge in and redecorate the walls with the boys' guts, or b) they all turned into magical unicorns. Seeing as the second option was only slightly more unlikely, Dean was concerned. _Very_ concerned.

Dean felt Sam tense up at his side. "Where are they? Why aren't they attacking?" he asked.

_There his brother went_, Dean thought. Asking the stupid questions and stating the obvious. He might as well talk to the wall.

"Hey, I love you, man, but you've really got to stop doing that."

"Doing wha—"

"Help!" Someone screamed.

Dean tightened his grip on the gun handle. "Dammit, Cas. I said everyone, you angelic son of a bitch."

"Wait," Sam whispered in reply, his shoulders still taught. Dean could see his brother's faint outline in the gloom. He stood frozen. "Can you hear that?" he asked quietly.

Without waiting to find out what Sam was talking about, Dean stepped forward. "Don't know, but—" He stopped short, though, hearing it, too. The faint sound of howling off in the distance. It lit every nerve in his body on fire. Electricity caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand. Vividly, he realized, the flash backs were coming to mind. The feeling of claws raking across his chest, ripping him apart piece by piece. His screams. The explosion.

Dean's eyes went wide. "We've got to go up."

"Wait, Dean—"

"No more waiting, come on." He quickly grabbed his duffel bag and ran down the hall, concentrating on the walls surrounding him. There had to be a door somewhere, leading to the upper levels . . . then he saw it. A big, metal door bolted shut. But instead of indicating a set of stairs upward, it specified downwards movement. A basement. Finally, their first saving grace.  
Sam stopped at the door and looked over at Dean, their eyes meeting. What better place to hide a big group of people than the basement? Besides, sixty-five percent of the time, everything went on in a basement.

"Think we'll find drugs down there?" Sam murmured.

"It's what I'm betting on," Dean replied and retrieved his gun. "One side." He shot the door handle twice. Both bullets pinged and ricocheted off the metal loudly, but the door remained locked. He felt around the outside and frowned.

"It's screwed shut. Someone wasted a lot of demon-time to keep us out." Dean searched through his bag for something useful.

"Or someone else in."

Dean stopped. "True."

A girl's voice interrupted the brothers' thoughts. "Help! Help me! Please!" It came from behind the door. Both of them caught their breaths.

"Damn," Dean cursed. "Sometimes I hate to be right."

Sam tried to think. They hadn't exactly packed a screw driver or a flame thrower or anything. Which would both be useful at the moment. That, or a blow torch. Heat vision?

Suddenly, Dean's phone buzzed. "Busy," he said into the receiver, holding the device between his shoulder and cheek while he searched.

"Dean, it's me."

"Yeah, hey, Cas. It seems you missed a spot," Dean muttered, handing the bag to his brother as he took the phone. "You out?"

There was a pause on the other line. "Yes, please leave immediately."

That made Dean pause. Taking the phone from his ear, he tossed a can of paint to Sam. "Make a devil trap, will you? We've got work to do." He spoke next into the phone. "No can do. You left a bunch of captives in the basement. Don't worry, it won't take too long. Order us a pizza, too, while you're at it. I'm famished."

"Dean, stop. You need to listen to me. No matter what you do, do not go in the—" The line died. Dean stared at the phone and rolled his eyes.

Sam looked up from where he was painting on the carpet. "What's going on? Where's Cas?"

With an exaggerated sigh, Dean tossed his cell back towards his bag. "He's out. But . . . I don't know. We can take care of this."


	5. Chapter 5

_-Chapter Five-_

Looking up at the bolted door, Dean shifted from foot to foot, watching Sam stare at the door intently. As if he intended it to open. If they had been in any other situation, it may have been funny.

Sam tipped his head to the side. "We might be able to find a window outside, maybe," he thought aloud. Dean took precautions to try and not roll his eyes.

"You mean out there with the Hell Hounds? Something tells me that they're not exactly in a friendly enough mood."

"I'm just trying to help, Dean," Sam answered rather sharply. He sucked in a breath, unable to ignore the cries of help from someone inside. The girl had called about four times now. And every nerve in Dean's body was in hyper drive.

"Where's Castiel?" Sam asked finally.

Dean replied with grunt. "Sipping margaritas in heaven? I don't know. He's not picking up his phone."

"Dammit," Sam cursed.

Their situation just wasn't panning out. They were inside the hotel, great, but where were the demons? Where were the Hell Hounds and rain of fire? Lucifer was supposedly in the building, waiting for Sam to say yes, but how? Even if Sam was interested, which Dean was more than glad he wasn't, how could he find Lucifer anyhow? They seemed relatively in the dark. Literally.

Dean growled, scoping out the hallway absentmindedly. "There's got to be an axe somewhere," he whispered. Walking down the halls, he took a turn and stopped.

"You think an axe can get us through a steel door?" Sam asked, following behind Dean. In fact, he nearly slammed into him. "What's—" he stopped. The hall led out into a huge lobby. Complete with Greek columns and marble floors. A grand chandelier hung from the rafters, decorated with tiny, tear-drop shaped diamonds that glittered in the light of the street lamps. But that wasn't what immediately caught Sam's attention. It was the lobby doors, all long and made of glass. Standing behind them, outside, had to be a cluster of at least three dozen demons.

Dean audibly gulped. "Yeah, we're going to need more than one axe. A flame thrower, maybe. An atomic bomb would also be nice. Got any suggestions?"

"Run?" Sam offered, even though he knew his brother was far from the run-from-danger type. He was more the chop-off-their-heads-anyway type.

But surprisingly, Dean shrugged. "Sounds good to me." Both of them took off, racing back down the hall they had first appeared in. Dean slid to his knees before their bag of "stuff" and tossed Sam a bottle of holy water along with red paint.

"Paint the floors red while I try to manifest heat vision and get this door open," Dean ordered. "Keep in mind, I may need a minute."

"Dean!" Sam cried. But Sam didn't need to say anything else. Both of them could hear the sound of shattering glass. Both of them knew what was coming.

Suddenly, Dean knew what they had to do. "Sam, we can't do this. We need to leave. Now."

"But there's still someone trapped in there! We can't just leave them!"

"It's that or become demon food. I personally don't prefer the latter. "

"No," Sam said. "We came here to save people and I'm not leaving. These people are here because of me. _Me_, Dean. I'm not going to turn my back on them."

Dean coughed and got onto pouring salt across the carpet, his face heating up with frustration.  
"We can play who's-to-blame when we're out of here. Now is not the time to get righteous. There's nothing we can—"

"Hello, Dean," a girl piped.

Dean whipped his head up and grabbed a shotgun off the floor, his eyes widening. "Meg," he whispered. Sam stopped in his tracks.

The girl, dark hair pooling behind her, stood tall, leaning against the wall casually. It took Dean a moment to notice the burn scars lining her pale face, almost glowing red in the light.

"I see you were stupid enough to show. Although, deep down I hoped you would. Sam," she said curtly. "How are you?"

Sam's jaw bone flared, but he didn't respond.

Meg barreled on. "Oh, and just in case you're wondering. Don't worry, there's a _lot _you can still do. In fact, you can die."

"No thanks," Dean responded. "I'm kind of hungry." She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, but Dean didn't wait for her to reply. Launching into action, Dean took the knife from Sam's hands and swiped at Meg. The blade cut her cheek as she dodged out of the way. Burning embers could be briefly seen beneath her skin. Not pausing for another strike, she kicked Dean as hard as she could in the gut and he went flying, crashing into the wall to his left. Meg grabbed his throat.

"Getting a little rusty, old man. But no matter. Whether you've got wings or not, you all fall. All. The. Same." She separated each word, applying more and more pressure with each syllable.

Dean's eyes widened significantly.

Without warning, Sam's voice could be heard over the howls of the Hell Hounds. "Dean! The door's open!" he called.

Gasping briefly for air, Dean tightened his grip on the knife and ripped it across Meg's chest, slicing straight through her skimpy purple top. She howled in pain and loosened her grip briefly. It was just enough for Dean to get lose and knee her stomach. Meg toppled over.

"That's right, bitch. Feel the burn," he snarled and lunged for the door, feeling Sam's hands tighten around his collar as he yanked him in all the way. The door slammed shut behind them, the lock clicking.

Both boys took a moment to catch their breath. It wasn't long, though, before Dean spoke up. "How'd you get the door open?" he asked incredulously.

Sam shrugged. "It just opened."

"Doors that are physically screwed shut don't just "open." I'm serious," Dean said.

"So am I!"

Both of them relaxed for a moment, breathing hard. Suddenly, the sound of claws raking across the door brought them back.

"Open the door, Dean," Meg lulled from outside. As freaking if. The last thing Dean was going to do was open the door. Did she think he was _that_ stupid?

"I'm good," he replied. Finally catching his breath, he turned to Sam. "I think they've got Cas. I don't know for sure, but it's definitely a hunch. This party just keeps on getting better and better, doesn't it?"

"I'll say," Sam whispered back, looking around the room for the first time. They were immersed in darkness, so visibility was at an all time low. But Sam pulled a flashlight from his pocket, clicking it on and flickering it around. The room, they noticed, was small and empty. Except, of course, for another door. Surprise, surprise, it was pad-locked as well.

Dean groaned. "Great, remind me next time we go on a little adventure to bring a lock pick." His shoulders slumped. "You know, this is just . . . peachy."


	6. Chapter 6

_-Chapter Six-_

The echoing sound of howls could be heard over the cackling of flames. Castiel fought the urge to cringe. Of course Dean was here. Of course they were trying to break inside. Of course they were stupid enough to walk right into a trap. Why had he ever thought otherwise? The day humans became anything other than predictable was seeming less possible every second.

Lucifer, leaning against the wall and humming a song that wasn't familiar to Castiel, looked up and smiled. "You seem upset, Cas darling. Want to talk about it?"

With a burning glare, Castiel didn't speak. He had never felt such a wave of powerlessness. What was left of his gifts was fading. All power that was once his was nothing more. It hurt to think about. That his connection to Heaven, what used to be so strong and thriving, was nothing more than a meager thread. One that was ready to snap at any given moment. He momentarily considered doing something drastic. Yet that was an idea of laughable proportions. Holy oil and fire made certain of it.

Lucifer pressed his lips together and glanced down at his nails. "You know, it's kind of cute seeing them come to your rescue. Two little humans trying to save a broken angel. One much like myself, you see," Lucifer muttered. "We are not as different as you think, Castiel. We both loved God with all our hearts. I love him still, no matter how many times he attempts to smite me and whatnot. Yet here we are. With nothing. Our love unwavering and unconditional and yet stoic he stares, not moving a finger to help either of us. I only wish to bring the world to paradise. My only wish is to see the true leaders of this world prevail and live in beauty. Humans are a petty, sadistic race. They are nothing compared to the sheer greatness of angels."

Castiel looked up to meet Lucifer's eyes for the first time. "What you mean to bring is destruction to innocents and—"

"_Innocents_?" Lucifer raged. "I hardly think of the human race as innocent. They lie and kill and cheat and God loves them with all his heart. How is that right in any sense of thought? I loved him more than _anything._"

"That is why you are blind," Castiel spoke.

"Do not patronize me, fallen. There is more than one way to de-wing an angel."

Looking at the burning floor, Castiel silenced. He could no longer quarrel with Lucifer. It was a futile attempt if anything. Only he could free himself.

As silence ensued, he looked around the room. Unused and empty aside from the holy fire. If he could even try to discern, the walls seemed of metal-like material.

The sound of crashing interrupted his thoughts briefly and he heard someone smashing something against the door. Most likely Dean Winchester, if Castiel had to guess. The reckless hunter much preferred to break things than fix them. Of that, he was certain.

"Well, looks like it's show time." Lucifer stood up straight. "Game faces everyone, the show is about to begin."

Castiel growled, his hands tightening into fists in his trench coat. Why could he not solve this? Why did he remain powerless, trapped in such an insignificant cage? Viciously, he thought of a way to escape. Before Dean broke in and made matters far worse. Before the Devil blackmailed his brother to concede his life. Before the Earth went to Hell and back.

"Lucifer!" he snapped, swallowing. "You never loved God as much as Michael. That is why he abandoned you. Because Michael was always the better son. You were a monster."

Lucifer stopped dead. His whole demeanor went stiff and he took in a loud breath. After a moment of pause, he laughed. "You know," he began. "I am going to skin Dean Winchester first. Make you watch. And I'll do it as Sam, his own brother. Make _him_ watch. Then, and only then, when his blood stains the walls crimson, will I leave you here in silence to _rot_. Maybe then, you will realize your mistake."

Both of them were silent when the broken padlock clattered to the ground. The sound echoed and bounced back and forth across the walls until it stopped all together. No more than a breath passed before the door was thrown open. Dean was first, ahead of his brother by a mere foot. His hazel eyes widened briefly, flecks of green visible in the dark gleam. It was then, when their eyes met, that he realized his mistake. One that could very well cost his life.

Castiel held the stare, unable to let himself look away. He was disgusted, more in himself than Dean, but it was no solace. He had failed Dean. He had failed his friend.

"Son of a bitch," Dean whispered.

**Author's note: Oh, wow. I apologize for such a long wait. Vacation can really turn you into a lazy bum! I haven't been writing in weeks! So yes, I'm out of shape and this chapter is so short, it's killing me. I decided a bit late notice that this one would be from Cas's perspective. And figuring that now I'm on the seventh season instead of the fifth is making things a bit more difficult. Maybe after I wrap this one up, I'll write another more recent-ish one. I have this interesting idea I can't wait to play with, so hopefully you guys will like it . . . . :D I expect to wrap this story up in at least four more chapters. They're really short (I apologize) so there may be a bit more; I don't know. ;)**

**Thank you so much for everyone's support and thoughts! I love reviews more than anything. Whenever I receive an update in my email, I get this really ditzy fuddy-duddy feeling! It's awesome! And the encouragement is keeping me going. I'm so caught up in other work, like my own original work, Beta Reading and editing, that I've sort of considered dropping this story. O.o But all doubts are gone, so that's good. I am bound and determined to see this through the end, dagnammit. Even if it kills me. Which it might. I'm swamped . . . . XPXD**

**Also, if you can, I would love it if you checked out some of my other work! Especially Blaze of Fire on . I've got fourteen chapters posted and a total of over fifth-three-thousand words. In fact, the whole book is finished with a whopping count of forty-nine chapters and over five-hundred pages! Eek! My first ever finished book! Yes! Of course, editing is still part of the equation, but I'll be posting more and more edited chapters on FictionPress, my main account. I'm ForeverSunshine80083! Check me out! Thanks a lot! :D**


	7. Chapter 7

_-Chapter Seven-_

The moment the door flew open, Dean knew at once that he had made a big mistake. Not only was Castiel captured, which was very un-angelic of him, but Lucifer, the very man they were hoping to avoid was standing before them. The perfect sense of Homer Simpson's _"doh!"_ came to mind. And Dean was _not_ happy.

"Ah, Sam! So glad of you to stop by. We're having a party, you see. Cas, would you be so kind as to hand out the party hats?" Lucifer cooed.

Dean tightened his hand around the flashlight he had used to break the lock with. It was a good flashlight, made of metal and glass. Just like the ones cops would wander around with. Which made sense. He had, in fact, stolen it from a cop.

Sliding the handle across his palm, he momentarily weighed the heavy and more importantly, _blunt_ object carefully. It was a stupid move to attack, but often, stupid solutions were the ones to fix stupid problems. For that he was counting on.

With all his might, he slammed the flashlight against Sam's head and kicked him backwards. Dean's brother toppled to the ground just outside the door and Dean shut it with a resounding bang. The sound echoed throughout the room and all chaos erupted. Just after, Dean took a step forward and swung hard, the large end of the flashlight making contact with Lucifer's face. The glass inside shattered, sparkling glitter rain all over Dean's face as Lucifer side stepped and grabbed Dean's arm, twisting it backwards. Off in the distance, Dean thought he heard Cas yell something, but it was lost in the commotion.

Then it stopped. As quickly as the fighting had started, it stopped abruptly. Dean's eyes went wide as he felt his shoulder crack under the pressure and the Devil coughed laughter.

"Very noble of you, Winchester. In fact, you dented my vessel a bit." Lucifer cracked his neck and a large chunk of flesh was visibly hanging off the side of his face. Red stained bone was grotesquely noticeable.

Dean choked a small growl.

"Too bad, though," Lucifer continued. "That it will be in vain. I have a question. If I were to tell you that I was going to _break_ this shoulder of yours, would you _beg_ for mercy?"

"If you said pretty please," Dean spat back.

Lucifer laughed and shrugged. "Oh well." He needed only to apply just a hint of extra pressure to feel the bone shatter beneath. Dean's sudden cry bounced off the walls.

**O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O**

Sam's head ached. He saw stars dancing in his vision. It hurt to move. It hurt to think. It hurt to breathe. Something was wrong. There was something important that he was missing. Something _deadly._ But what was it?

He groaned, shifting in his position belly-down on the floor. Trying desperately not to lose his head, Sam managed to get to his knees. Unfortunately, the moment his head moved, a wave of nausea swept through his system, rendering him nearly useless as he sat. The sound of a cry, though, awakened his nerves. Like a light switch, everything came flooding back. The holy fire, demons, Hell Hounds, Lucifer and . . . Dean. Dean had done this to him. His brother took the goddamn flashlight to his head!

Groaning softly, Sam placed his fists on the ground and willed his mind to get steady. It felt like his brain was spinning round in circles. _Damn_, he thought bitterly. Dean sure did wear out the "hero" card fairly made Sam mad. Why couldn't his brother let him help? Dean felt the need to save him every time, but it wouldn't hurt for him to realize that maybe Sam could look after himself. Dean might be his older brother, but it didn't mean that Sam was defenseless. Sometimes he thought that maybe Dean enjoyed the role too much. Relishing in his own personal victories rather than pay attention to the feelings of his brother. But that was Dean, he guessed. Always the hero.

Sam gathered breath, attempting once again to stand and get a hold of himself. The spinning merry-go-round that was his brain was throbbing. But the determination to prove his brother wrong was strong. It sent new electricity through Sam's veins. New confidence and resolve to this idea that he could prove Dean wrong. It was a petty thing, he noted, but too pleasurable to skip.

One foot after another, he got to his feet. And ignoring the sticky blood drying to his head, he turned to face the door. Another cry sounded from inside. And just like that, every want of rubbing victory in Dean's face vanished instantaneously.

Sam ripped open the door in a worried outbreak, sending dust into the air. In horror, he saw that Lucifer held the limp form of his brother over the floor by his neck. The tops of Dean's shoes barely brushed against the ground.

"I was wondering how long you wanted to nap," Lucifer chatted. "It's getting a little stuffy in here." Dropping Dean, Sam fought the urge to run to his limp brother. But one wrong move could send Lucifer over the edge. And if Dean wasn't already . . . no. Sam wasn't going there. Dean was fine. Dean was always fine.

Materializing a chair in the middle of the room, Lucifer sat down in it, lazing like a Roman. Crossing both legs, he struggled to patch up a piece of limp skin hanging from his cheek. Obviously, his vessel was falling apart. "Let's have a chat Sam. Sit," he said solemnly.

Sam didn't move. Not even when a second chair appeared before him. His eyes were still caught on Dean, who he hoped with all his life was still breathing.

"Fine, stand. I don't care. You look taller standing up anyway." Lucifer paused and dragged in a breath. "Wow, I feel nervous. Do you feel nervous? It's _so_ hot in here. I feel like I'm suffocating. Of course, I'd put the fire out if I wasn't trying to keep a fly trapped over there. Hi, Cas. How are you doing?"

No one made a move to answer. Sam looked between Cas, Dean and Lucifer anxiously, feeling his head start to spin again. Fear was making the wound numb, but the stars were beginning to return. When no one spoke, Lucifer sighed. "Tough crowd. Anyway, what I was meaning to ask is—well, you already know, so why don't we just skip to the _telling_ part, shall we? Dean is going to die. Your _brother_ is going to die. Cas," he stopped and pointed to the tense angel. "Is going to die. You guys saved the rats, of course. Bravo, by the way. But if you ask me, I don't really think those nobodies matter anymore. So here's how it's going to go."

Sam knotted his hands into fists.

"I'm going to skin Dean. Bleed him, actually, and then paint the angel red with it. After the little make-over party, I'm going to feed your brother's remains to the Hell Hounds and . . . . hmmm. What to do with the angel? Should I just leave him? He could theoretically stand there forever if I make certain precautions," wondered Lucifer aloud.

"Enough," Sam snapped, feeling sick. "You've made your point. What do you want?"

A little taken aback, Lucifer looked up to meet Sam's eyes, a smile spreading across his lips. "I want to wear you to the prom, Sammy."

"Stop," Dean coughed, hacking blood onto the floor. "Don't . . . be stupid, Sam."

Lucifer rolled his eyes. "And here I thought I tore your windpipe. Darn," he hmmphed and whipped around, grabbing Dean by the shoulders.

"Dammit, stop, just stop!" Sam cried, running shaking fingers through his hair, yanking at the chocolate strands. His sanity was running thin. He could feel the entire world pressing down on his back. Crushing him with every new breath. "Okay, fine. You win. Just . . . put him down. Please." Sam's eyes stung.

With a little smirk, Lucifer dropped Dean. "Do my ears deceive me? Did you just say yes? To me? Right now?"

Sam looked down to meet his brother's eyes. His face was swollen and beaten, but he could still find the fighting spark that Dean usually carried. It made Sam feel just a little better, knowing that Dean would never stop trying to save him. It wasn't a handicap or some sort of a curse, it was love, and Sam realized that now. In fact, he was going to rely on it. He had to. Because once he gave in, there was no going back.

Looking back up to Lucifer and taking a deep, rugged breath, he nodded. "But you have to promise to leave Dean unharmed, or the deals off."

Lucifer twirled his hand in the air and the door opened. "Free to go," he allowed with a dramatic bow.

Sam stepped hesitantly forward. "Then fine. You have my . . . consent."

"I knew you'd eventually come around, Sammy. We're BFFs, you know. Best. Friends. _Forever._" Lucifer cracked his neck and fingers, taking a huge breath. "Good morning, Vietnam," he whispered and light erupted into the room, a blaze of white hot fire. Sam looked away, finally feeling the tears leak down his cheeks. It stung with a strange fierceness, but at that point, he welcomed it. Pain wouldn't be something he could have the pleasure to feel anymore. And in the last seconds of emotion, he knew he was going to miss it. Pain reminded him that he was human and normal and just like everyone else.

Now he truly was a monster.

**Author's note: Yes, the dreaded seventh chapter I knew I would eventually have to work with. Keep in mind guys, that this is a work in progress. I was a little rushed and didn't have the appropriate time to edit or rewrite. You know, you get the gist. So hopefully it sort of turned out? I don't know, lol. I honestly don't know. **

**What I ****_do_**** know, though, is that I think there'll be ten chapters total, because ten is a good, solid number. And if I left off on nine, I would feel very unfinished. So it's coming along! At forty two Microsoft Word pages so far, it's not bad for a short FanFiction story. My first, I think, of many. Most likely, I think the next FanFic will be a Walking Dead one or maybe a Sherlock tale . . . . (?) I don't know. Wow, I've said that a lot! **

**Thank you so much for reading! It means the WORLD, people. All reviews, comments, thoughts, critiques and favs/follows are so much appreciated. I love you all! :D**

**-Cait**


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